


until the chances are spent

by whimsical whispers (Kiyoko_Michi)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherhood, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Feral Survives AU, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, Nightsister Culture (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyoko_Michi/pseuds/whimsical%20whispers
Summary: Feral survives.He survives the Nightsisters. Ventress. His brother’s hand around his throat. For a long time Feral isn’t sure surviving was a good thing. Even after Savage comes back for him, everything feels broken. Savage can barely even look at him, and Feral doesn’t know what to do.Eventually, he gets a chance to run. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to take his brother with him.
Relationships: CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo/CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, Feral & Darth Maul & Savage Opress, Feral & Savage Opress, Fives/Feral/Echo
Comments: 40
Kudos: 95





	1. Survival

**Author's Note:**

> This story was initially inspired by blackkat's wonderful fic Running with Lightning Feet. Before reading, I hadn't seen Clone Wars or heard of Darth Maul's brothers, and it's an amazing read if you haven't checked it out!

The Nightsisters don’t let him die. Feral has never mistaken that for kindness.

He’s only a Nightbrother, after all. Disposable like the rest of his village. The Sisters decide he has some use left in him, so they take him from that ritual room after Savage breaks his neck. They bring him back.

Feral wakes surrounded by Sisters with his blood boiling in his veins. He wakes terrified and alone because Savage is already gone. That’s the worst part. Everything else—being taken and hurt and _used—_ is just part of being a Nightbrother.

But they took his brother. They changed him, stole his _mind,_ and Feral was helpless to stop them. He’s still helpless as the Sisters send him back to the village, alone and confused.

He stumbles as he gets off the transport, and Brother Viscus catches him before he falls. There’s other Brothers nearby, staring and whispering amongst themselves. Nightbrothers are taken and returned frequently, but not like this. Not quietly taken from the healers’ quarters after failing a Nightsister’s trial and returned the same way.

Feral shrinks under the weight of their curiosity, and he keeps his head down.

Wraith, a village Healer, takes him by the shoulder and guides him back to the healers’ quarters. He checks the bindings on Feral’s ribs and prods at the blossoming bruises around his neck.

Feral flinches away from his hand, and he realizes he’s shaking. He remembers the feeling of Savage’s hand around his neck. The strange, cold edges of his mind when it had been so bright and familiar just hours before.

He hides his head in his hands, and he _breaks._

* * *

Time passes. Feral stays in the village, and he survives. The Sisters don’t come back for him. There’s no information about Savage. Nothing at all.

He stays in the rooms he and Savage used to share, and he doesn’t touch his brother’s belongings. Traditionally, after thirty days gone, a Brother is considered dead. They hold a remembrance and give away belongings. A month comes and goes, and Feral just- He _can_ _’t._

This wasn’t a normal Choosing. Ventress was an Offworlder, looking for a champion not a mate, Maybe Savage is dead and Feral will never know _,_ but maybe not. Maybe he’s still alive, and Feral can’t let him go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So, he waits, and he hopes. At night, he dreams about Savage being hurt or taken. Looking at him with those flat, empty eyes and reaching towards his _neck-_

He doesn’t sleep much anymore.

* * *

Months later, he’s alone when he senses Savage come into the outer edge of his range. Feral drops the basket he’d been holding and turns, desperately reaching back. It’s him. He’s sure it’s him, and he runs.

He’s in the opposite direction as the village, but Feral doesn’t hesitate. He isn’t thinking at all, and it feels like his head is full of static. His brother is alive _,_ and Feral is so relieved it hurts, deep and aching in his chest.

Then he slips past some trees, and Savage comes into sight. Feral freezes.

For a moment, he’d forgotten what the Sisters had done. How they’d changed his brother. Savage stands head and shoulders taller than him now, with long, scraggly horns. Even his markings sit differently across his skin, and his eyes burn with a strange new light.

He should do something. Say something. This is his brother, and a large part of Feral had thought he’d never see him again.

The words stick in his throat. Savage’s mind still feels different. Sharp and cold and _angry_ in a way he’d never felt before that day with the Sisters.

He loves his brother. Trusts him more than anyone else.

But he’s not sure how much of his brother is left after what the Sisters did.

Feral’s grip tightens against the tree. Fear settles over him, making it hard to breathe, and Feral stops himself from touching his neck. He remembers the terror of having Savage’s hand around his neck. The pressure and pain as he squeezed, and he still doesn’t know _anything_ about what happened.

He almost doesn’t notice the stranger standing next to Savage. Another Nightbrother, with red skin and the familiar sweep of their markings, but not one Feral has ever met. He hadn’t realized there were any Nightbrothers outside of Dathomir.

“So this is him?” the stranger says, stalking closer. “A weak little thing, to have caused such trouble.”

He reaches out to tilt Feral’s head upwards, inspecting him. Feral keeps his mouth closed, and he allows it. His pride prickles, but he has practice at pushing that down. Not with other Brothers, of course, but he can adapt.

The stranger’s presence feels strange. It has that same coldness as Savage, but… sharper. Controlled and honed into something deadly. Feral knows how to recognize danger, and this man sends his instincts screaming. Eventually, though, Feral’s curiosity outweighs his unease.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Feral says.

“Ventress attempted to use you as a bargaining chip. I am disinclined to allow her such liberties. Come; we are leaving.”

He steps back and turns away, towards where they came. Feral stays where he is, now frozen for a different reason. Come with them? As in, off Dathomir? Who is this stranger, and where did they come from? What has _happened_ since Savage was taken?

“Savage?” Feral whispers, confused and uncertain.

Savage still won’t meet his eyes. “We can take you somewhere safe,” he says.

Feral waits, but Savage doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t say anything, not about where he’s been or what the Sisters did to him. He looks and feels almost like a different person, but Feral still sees pieces of his brother there. It’s not the same as back then with the Sisters, when there’d been _nothing._

Feral does the only thing he can. He follows his brother.

* * *

He tries.

This is his brother. His _brothers,_ and Feral had never been told what their clan was missing. The brother—Maul—that the Nightsisters had stolen from them. Feral would do just about anything for his family. So he throws himself into the training and tasks, and he tries to be useful.

Most of the time, his brothers leave him on a nameless planetoid while Maul establishes his power base. It’s a stronghold of one of Maul’s allies, and Savage was right. He’s safe there.

He’s also alone and so very lost.

He just…

He’s a Nightbrother, through and through. He knows how to hunt and fight and mend. To tend the central fires and watch over Littles and the hundred other small tasks that keep their village running. He doesn’t know how to use a datapad or navigate the politics of these strangers. He’d never even seen an Offworlder before coming here.

And… he’s never been alone. He thought it was bad before, when he was the only one of his Clan left, but he’d still had the village and other Nightbrothers. Now, Savage barely looks at him, even during training, and they certainly don’t talk. Both of his brothers are away more often than not, and Feral finds himself surrounded by strangers.

He tries and he _tries_ , but it doesn’t seem to go anywhere. And… he starts doing research too. He figures out the datapads and the holonet, and he reads, desperate to know about this new space he’d stumbled into.

He learns about the war. The Separatists. These allies and their bloody history.

There’s information about his brothers too. What they’ve done. Even a few video clips, and Feral-

He _can_ _’t._

* * *

Feral picks a quiet spot to speak with Savage.

He asked Savage to come alone, but he’s still surprised to hear the quiet purr of a hovercycle. He hadn’t truly expected Savage to hide something from Maul, not even for Feral. He watches the hovercycle grow closer until he can pick out Savage’s head bent over the handles. The solid sweep of his horns and the bold markings, as familiar to Feral as his own skin. He looks away, choosing to stare out over the water one last time. He wants to remember this moment. To memorize it before…

Well. Before.

The motor cuts off. Footsteps. Savage stops behind him, but Feral doesn’t turn. Not yet.

Feral can feel him waiting. He’s annoyed already, and Feral hates how familiar he is with the yawning cavern of his fury. Feral knows he needs to speak. Every moment that passes only makes it worse, but the words tangle in his throat.

It would’ve been smarter to steal a ship and run. To send Savage a recorded message, if he left him anything at all. But every time he touched the controls, he remembered Savage as he’d once been. Had imagined the look on his face when he learned that Feral had disappeared. The realization that Feral had abandoned him.

So he’d come here instead. To deal with the fallout in person.

Well. He’d never been smart.

“Do you remember when we were young?” slips out of Feral’s throat first. “We talked about finding a ship and leaving Dathomir. Striking out on our own, just the two of us.”

“You didn’t call me here to talk about sentiment,“ Savage says.

Feral flinches away. Swallows, and sets that old dream aside. Savage is right. They’re long past the point of old dreams and childishness.

He takes a breath and turns to face Savage. His brother is closer than he expects. Sitting on the stump, Feral feels even smaller next to him. He forces himself to meet Savage’s eyes, and it’s still harder than it should be. Makes him remember things he desperately wants to forget.

“I’m not going back,” Feral says.

Savage stills. Feral wets his lips. Continues.

“I don’t belong here. I’m not strong like you and Maul, and I just-” His voice breaks. He swallows hard and forces himself to continue. “I can’t be part of this. I’ve heard about what you and Maul have done. The people you’ve killed, and I can’t do this, Savage. I _can_ _’t._ ”

Any path to power was bloody, but there were limits to what Feral could tolerate. There _needed_ to be limits. This was his, and he refused to cross it. Not even for his brothers.

“You’re leaving us,” Savage says, and Feral can’t read him at _all._

Feral looks down. Can’t say anything because Savage is right. Savage curses, and-

Oh.

There’s the anger.

It flares out from Savage, violent and painful. Savage doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach out for him, but Feral flinches back anyway.

“Then why are you still _here?_ ” he shouts.

Around them, boulders crack and crumble as Savage lashes out. Feral waits, but none of it touches him, not even the shrapnel. Savage has his fists clenched and teeth bared, and it takes Feral a moment to realize he’s waiting for an answer.

“Because every time I imagine starting over, you’re there beside me.”

Despite everything, he can’t bear the thought of leaving Savage behind. Strained as their relationship has become, they’re still brothers. He knows, bone deep and aching, that he’d die before severing the final threads holding them together.

Feral sees the moment Savage realizes what he’s really asking. The oppressive force of Savage’s anger fades.

“You want me to come. With you.”

He says the words slowly, like he’s testing out how they feel. It’s not an agreement, not even close, but… it’s _something._ An invitation to keep talking, at least, so Feral does.

“We’re strong now, especially you. More than strong enough to survive on our own. We even have a ship.”

Everything they’d dreamt of only a year earlier, before they’d even heard of the war. It feels like so much longer.

“I don’t care about the war or building some grand power base. I doubt you do either. We’re just obeying orders, and we don’t have to be. We’re allowed to leave. Together.”

He reaches a hand towards Savage and tries to smile. Savage stares back, and Feral waits for his decision.


	2. Hiding

Feral knows how to hide. Most Nightbrothers do, and it’s one of the few things Feral has been truly, unequivocally good at. He knows how to cover his tracks and fade into the background. To escape. So he lays false leads, trades in the Separatist ship he’d taken, and chooses the most isolated planet he can find.

More than anything, he’s _happy._ Breathlessly, unspeakably happy because he’s dreamed about being free since he was a child and first realized what it meant to be a Nightbrother. This isn’t how he’d ever imagined it, but he doesn’t care because Savage came with him.

Savage is quiet at his side. He wanders their small ship. Avoids Feral and barely talks. But he’s _there_ , and it’s more than Feral dared hope for. Feral isn’t good at holding onto things, but this time he’s determined to try.

So Feral picks a planet, Valdoria, far away from the war or any strategic target. He finds a small, abandoned property on the edges of a great forest, isolated and safe. He makes plans and throws himself into each step, determined to succeed.

Then they’re _here_ , standing in front of their own small house, and there’s nothing else to do. No more plans to make or places to run. It leaves Feral at loose ends, and he’s not sure what to do.

* * *

Savage slips away into the forest. Feral lets him go.

Savage had taken his hand and come with him. Feral holds onto the thought because it means something. It means _everything_ , even if the rest of their relationship remains broken.

So Savage goes into the forest, and Feral explores the new house. The place is old and in disrepair, but it’s made of better materials than anything the Nightbrothers could find. He’d helped build their old home on Dathomir, and he knows the basics. This, at least, he can do.

As he works, he keeps track of Savage’s Force presence. It moves back and forth in random patterns. Hours pass before he returns to linger outside the house. Feral only hesitates a moment before joining him. Savage has a large animal carcass slung over one shoulder. Savage wordlessly starts preparing the meat. Feral watches, occasionally stepping in when more hands are needed. The process is comfortable in its familiarity, and Feral sneaks glances at his brother.

“We’ll need to build a proper smokehouse,” Feral dares to say.

Smoked meat had been popular on Dathomir, and it’d always been Savage’s favorite. It’s a simple enough thing to build. There’s a small city west of them where he can find tools and supplies.

It feels strange, making these sorts of plans. On Dathomir, they only had the village, and gathering supplies had been a communal affair. With Maul, none of it had mattered. This is something different, and different sounds very good.

* * *

Nights are hard.

He hasn’t slept well since before Ventress. Leaving Dathomir helped, but nightmares keep him awake more often than not.

His mind has no shortage of material to draw from. The Nightsisters, and the well-worn terror of being chosen. Being too weak to save anyone, not even himself, and watching as Ventress took Savage away. Savage hurt, Savage dead, Savage blank and distant like those moments after his transformation, when he’d grabbed Feral and-

Yes, Feral was very used to nightmares.

Most of the time he woke blinking past the lingering images and bitter taste of horror in his throat. Feral often spent the rest of the night outside with a cup of tea cooling in his hands. Reminding himself where he was and what was real.

Tonight is a bad night.

Feral wakes himself screaming. He throws himself blindly forward, but he only hits the wall.

It’d been Ventress this time. Her and Savage, and Feral too weak to do anything but watch. The details are already fading, but he remembers blood and helpless terror. Savage, broken and bleeding on the ground.

He forces his breathing to even out. Silences the soft whimpers that keep trying to escape.

He can sense Savage, and Feral latches onto the familiar feel of his presence. His brother is awake. Probably woken by Feral’s shouts. Once, Savage would’ve come running immediately. Or he’d have already been there; they’d shared a sleeping roll on occasion, especially when they were younger.

That was a long time ago, and there’s no real danger here. Feral can deal with a nightmare on his own.

* * *

Time passes oddly. Sometimes slow, sometimes so quickly he marvels at the change. Feral throws himself into fixing the ramshackle house. Plans and ideas and projects. He visits the city and learns its twisting roads and tunnels. Meets a few locals.

He and Savage still don’t talk.

Feral tries, a few times, but the words don’t come. What’s he supposed to say anyway? That he misses his brother and how they used to be? How he never knows what Savage is thinking anymore? Maybe something about the nightmares of Savage hurting him and the sickly green magic of the Nightsister.

It’s so much. Too much. Besides, Savage isn’t around often. He spends more time in the woods, traveling further and further into the unmapped wilderness. Sometimes he’ll mention some incident or a new place he’d found, but not often and not in any detail.

Back on Dathomir, Savage had enjoyed telling stories. They’d always been small things, events or legends or rumors of elsewhere. He hadn’t been good enough to Speak in the village—hadn’t ever tried—but he’d told them to Feral when they’d been alone. It’d felt like their own secret.

Feral wonders if Savage still makes his stories. If he writes them down, now that paper is freely available. He can’t decide if it’s worse if Savage stopped shaping stories altogether or if he just doesn’t share with him anymore.

As the days pass, Feral notices Savage getting restless. He chaffs at the planet more and more. Spends more time wandering and talks less. His Force presence feels rougher too, annoyed and frustrated and _unhappy._

Feral can guess why. Savage wasn’t made for hiding, and he hates running away. He’s used to being a Sith, after all: to being powerful and important. Unlike Feral, he was good at it. Feral doesn’t know how to fix it. He keeps giving Savage space, and he knows it won’t be enough.

So the first time Savage goes off-planet, Feral doesn’t expect him to come back.

Savage leaves at night. He’s quiet, but stealth is one of the few things Feral is better at. Feral was still awake when he heard the soft sounds of Savage gathering his things. Creeping quietly through the house and opening the door. Feral waits an extra minute before following.

It’s not that he’d expected Savage to stay. Not really. He hadn’t expected Savage to come in the first place, and he’s been waiting for him to leave ever since.

He’d hoped Savage would at least say goodbye though.

Feral slips out of the house after Savage is gone. He doesn’t bother following. He stands there, staring out into the trees until he sees the distant gleam of Savage’s ship rising above the treeline. He watches until the ship disappears, just another speck in the sky.

Feral walks back inside and makes himself a cup of tea. The tea ends up cold and over-steeped, but he drinks it anyway.

A week later, Feral wakes to the sound of the outside lock slipping free. He’s awake and moving immediately, a knife in his hand.

His first thought is a thief. Maybe a thrillseeker from a nearby settlement. Hopefully not some sort of assassin; he thought they’d been careful enough to avoid being tracked. He’s at the door of his room when he realizes he knows the Force presence. He drops the knife.

“Savage?”

Savage jerks around. He’s holding something, and he drops it heavily onto the table. Some spill onto the wood, and Feral recognizes credit chips.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Feral says.

Savage doesn’t say anything. He starts to turn away, and Feral is suddenly afraid that he’ll leave again. That he’ll realize there’s nothing left for him here, and Feral will never see him again. He grabs Savage’s arm, and they both freeze.

Once, touch had been easy between them. It’d been one of their few comforts on Dathomir, and he remembers sitting shoulder to shoulder. Wrestling and laughing and falling asleep against each other.

The Nightsisters changed that. Feral can count on one hand the times he and Savage have touched since the night Savage transformed. This time, Feral doesn’t pull away. Savage slowly relaxes under his hand.

Feral is the first to look away.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Feral says as he pulls back. Letting go of Savage is almost physically painful, but he doesn’t want to overstep. He doesn’t know where Savage’s boundaries are anymore. Doesn’t know if Savage still likes to be touched at all, and he is so afraid of making everything worse.

He doesn’t ask where the credit chips came from; he isn’t sure he wants to know.

Feral can’t quite make himself return to his room, so he ends up making tea. A Dathomirian recipe, something rich and soothing. They stay there until the sun rises.

Haltingly, Savage tells him about the planet he visited. The chilled air and purple ground and litany of poisonous wildlife. The words come slowly, with strange pauses and tangents, but Feral tries to memorize every one of them. Savage is back and telling stories again, and, for a moment, Feral lets himself be happy.


	3. Nightmare

Feral gets a few good weeks. Or… maybe not good, exactly. Not like things used to be back before Ventress and the war. It’s better, though. Peaceful. They have the house and the forest. The city and tunnels and an entire new world to lose themselves in.

Feral dares to brush a hand against Savage’s arm a few times. Lightly. Carefully. Savage never reaches back, but he doesn’t pull away either. Feral thinks he enjoys the contact. He might just be projecting. If he is, it’s a pleasant lie, and he holds onto it.

Most days, Savage seeks his solitude in the forest. Feral finds he’s had enough of isolation in the past months. He goes to the city instead, where he can lose himself in the bustle of the crowds and markets. A couple times, Savage follows him there, and they explore the city together. Those are good days. Times when Feral can almost pretend things are back to normal.

Nights are harder. Neither of them sleep easily, but they manage. Alone.

Then, one night, Feral wakes choking on Savage’s emotions. His horror and guilt presses down on him like a tangible thing, and Savage is at its epicenter. Dreaming, Feral realizes. A nightmare. He recognizes the feel, all overwhelming emotions and soft-edged thoughts. It’s never felt this bad before though. Not since they came here.

Feral breaths through it until he can separate Savage's emotions from his own. He stumbles to his feet on unsteady legs and runs to the door. Savage's room is just beside his. The door is closed, as always, but it is never locked. Not against him.

Feral slams the door open, uncaring of the noise. Savage has already thrown his covers off, and his frame fills the entire bedroll. His claws have torn furrows in the sheets, and his face is drawn in agony.

"Savage?" he calls out, hesitating just out of reach.

Savage can be dangerous like this. He wakes up fighting, violent at the edge of sleep. But Savage doesn't wake, not even when Feral calls louder. His emotions keep getting stronger, and Feral has never been able to sit back when his brother is in pain.

He reaches out, and his hand barely touches the overheated skin of Savage's shoulder before a hand closes around his wrist. He’s thrown across the room and hits the wall hard. He doesn’t have time to recover before Savage is there, lifting him off the ground and pinning him against the wood with one heavy arm. He’s almost eye to eye with Savage, but his brother’s eyes are distant. Blank, as if he’s looking straight through him.

"Savage!" Feral shouts, and he is afraid.

Except Savage doesn't press down. Doesn't squeeze and break and hurt. He stills. Pulls back.

"Feral?" he says, confused. "You-"

Realization sets in, and Savage throws himself backwards. Feral crumples to the ground, still struggling to breath. His chest aches where Savage grabbed him, but he reaches towards his neck. Making sure he’s still whole. Emotion overwhelms him, and Feral can’t tell which is his and which is his brother’s. There’s only fear and anger and guilt, enough to drown in.

He’s still on the ground when Savage turns and runs, knocking the door partway off its hinges in his haste. He’s still running when he leaves their house, and Feral loses track of him.

With Savage gone, there’s nobody to watch Feral as he falls apart. He tries and fails to stand and ends up curled up against the wall instead, shaking and shaking. Barely able to breath. Unable to move. Still so painfully afraid.

Weak, he thinks. Weak. Savage isn't even here anymore. Hadn't actually hurt him. Feral is perfectly fine, and he’s supposed to be better than this anyway. Better than last time, when he’d only been able to stand there uselessly and beg. He’d trained since then and promised himself he’d be stronger.

Except he failed. He hadn’t been able to do anything.

The shaking fades eventually. The fear and panic drain away. He stays where he’d fallen for hours, until long after the sun rises.

Savage doesn’t come back.

* * *

As soon as Feral can stand, he leaves the house. It’s quiet and empty and echoing with emotion, and Feral can’t stay there. He _can’t_.

The forest is Savage’s space, so Feral ends up on the road. He walks towards the city because he can’t think of anything else to do. Doesn’t want to stand still with only his thoughts for company.

So. He walks. 

His mind is blank and emotions raw, and Feral doesn’t let himself think. If he does, he’ll only remember bad memories and worse times. He makes the entire trip wrapped in a sort of daze, focused only on each step as it comes.

He reaches the city and keeps moving through the streets without a destination. Eventually he tires of walking. He’s somewhere beside the marketplace, and there are too many people nearby. People bumping into him. Their minds pressing against his, full of their own emotions and concerns. Some pleasant and others in pain or grief, and it's all too much. 

His breath catches, and Feral realizes with a jolt that he’s close to tears. Ashamed, he ducks into an empty alleyway and fights to get himself back under control. He’s so focused on rebuilding his shields that he doesn’t notice he’s attracted someone’s attention until they speak.

“Hey, you’re that weird hermit who lives in the forest, right? Are you okay”

Feral looks up. The speaker is a humanoid woman. Long hair, vibrant clothes. Feral would guess she's a local, though she speaks Common with a slight accent.

“Hermit?” he repeats. For a moment, his confusion outweighs everything else.

The stranger settles on a small crate near Feral. Close enough to comfortably talk. Outside grabbing distance. Smart.

“You know, living alone in an isolated shack. Barely ever coming to town. Tons of weird rumors; do you want to hear one?” she asks, tilting her head with a small grin.

Feral almost smiles back. Normally he’d be curious. He’d probably play along just to see where it would lead. But today isn’t a normal day. He shrugs and quietly hopes she’ll leave.

She doesn’t.

“Seriously, is something wrong?” she says. “I’m Adha, by the way. I run one of the food stalls in the market.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

If he’d been in Dathomir, that would’ve been enough. His problems are his own to deal with, and they weren’t big enough to affect others. He’d noticed how humans, in general, tended to be more meddlesome. This one included.

“You wanna talk about it? Promise I’m a good listener. Strangers make the best listeners anyway; we’ve got no stake in the problem.”

Feral wouldn’t know; before leaving Dathomir, the only strangers he’d met had been the Sisters. He doesn’t mean to say anything, but the words slip out regardless.

“My brother left. I’m… worried.”

He made everything worse. Savage is gone, and Feral doesn’t know if he’ll be back. He'd been in so much pain when he left, and Feral didn’t know if he's alright or hurt. Adha kept staring at him, frowning.

“Your brother. Tall dude? Quiet and super intimidating?”

This time, Feral’s smile is almost genuine. “You’ve met?”

Adha shrugs. “You two bought some meat buns off me last week. So, you had some kinda fight?”

Feral flinches back. A fight. Could he call it that? They hadn’t argued or exchanged blows, and the whole thing had only lasted a few seconds.

“He was dreaming. I tried to wake him, and-”

His throat closes up. Adha keeps staring, head tilted slightly in thought.

“You need help looking for him? I know some guys, can call in some favors…”

Feral quickly shakes his head. “He’s probably off-planet already.”

Savage didn’t do anything by halves, after all. He’ll have taken the ship and left. Even if he hadn’t, the last thing they wanted was a stranger tracking him down. They’d almost certainly end up dead. 

Adha slides off her crate. Feral expects her to leave, curiosity sated, but she comes closer instead. Holds out a hand.

“C’mon, you look too pathetic to leave alone in an alleyway. I could use some company while I prep for the lunch rush.”

Feral considers her hand. He intends to reject it, at first. Except, there’s no pity in her Force presence. There’s curiosity. Some old sadness. A bright earnestness. So, Feral takes her hand. He doesn’t have anything better to do anyway.

He spends the rest of the day at her stall, chopping vegetables and preparing dough. Adha fills the silence with stories about the marketplace and city. The customers keep them busy, and Feral is grateful for the distraction. Eventually, inevitably, the market slows to a stop. Adha invites him to stay longer, but Feral has intruded on her kindness long enough. He goes home.

The house is just as empty as when he’d left that morning. The door still hangs open, and he can see the path Savage tore through as he left. Feral quietly cleans the broken wood and strewn objects. He fixes the hinges on the door. Stands outside Savage’s room and feels the fading echoes of their earlier emotions.

He sleeps under the stars that night, unable to bear staying inside.


	4. Return

Feral deals with each day as it comes. He distracts himself with training and quiet activities and more visits to the city. Adha always seems to have some small task for him. Messages to run or ingredients to prepare. He can feel her curiosity, but she doesn’t ask any more questions. For that, Feral is grateful.

He tries not to dwell. So, he doesn’t think about the future. Doesn’t dare give shape to the fear that Savage won’t return at all. That the days and weeks will press on endlessly, and he’ll be stuck here. Alone.

The fear takes root regardless in the weeks that follow. He grows used to being alone, though familiarity doesn’t soften its ache. So he doesn’t quite believe it one morning when he wakes up with Savage outside.

He lingers in the half-awake state between sleep and awareness, convinced it’s a dream and that the familiar Force presence will fade as he wakes. Except, the sensation only grows stronger until he’s blinking his eyes open.

Feral rolls out of bed and sprints to the door.

Savage is there.

At first, Feral thinks he’s asleep. Savage is on the ground, leaning heavily against the outside wall. Dawn is just starting to break, and he can’t make out his brother’s expression in the dim light. His mental shields are up too, and Feral can’t sense his emotions at all.

“Savage?” Feral says.

Savage tilts his head towards him. He doesn’t meet Feral’s eyes, though. Doesn’t stand or speak. Feral hesitates in the doorway, unsure what to do.

There’s drying blood on Savage’s shirt.

“You’re hurt,” Feral says. Now that he’s looking, he can see several deep scrapes across Savage’s arm. One in particular cuts deeply into his shoulder, and it needs stitches.

“Can you stand?”

Savage nods. He doesn’t move until Feral reaches out to help. As soon as he touches Savage’s arm, he stands and follows Feral inside.

They’ve stitched each other’s wounds before. Injuries were common with the Nightbrothers, and their Healers were often busy with sicker patients. Feral has better supplies now. He even has painkiller patches, which seem like a great indulgence.

Savage doesn’t react as Feral cleans the wound and closes it with small, neat stitches. He wraps it with clean bandages and lets his hands linger on Savage’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming back,” Feral says softly. He can’t think of anything else to say.

Savage pulls away.

“You’d be safer if I could stay away,” he says.

He stands and, for a moment, Feral is afraid he’ll leave again. He walks into his room instead, closing the door behind him. Feral stares after him for several long minutes, but Savage doesn’t return or make a sound. His shields are just as impenetrable as always.

Eventually, Feral returns to his room. He ignores the bed and leans against the dividing wall between his room and Savage’s. Having his brother nearby settles something in his chest regardless of everything else. He sleeps better than he has in weeks.

* * *

He wakes while it’s still dark outside. He can’t tell what woke him, but he stands and shakes out the stiffness in his limbs. He can already tell he won’t be falling back asleep.

He hesitates in the doorway when he notices Savage sitting at the table. He’s hunched over the wood with his hands spread out in front of him, staring at them. His shields are weaker than before, enough for some emotion to leak out.

This isn’t the first time Feral’s found him like this. There’d been other nights when he’d woken to Savage’s emotions; quieter than the nightmares but no less intense. Mornings when he’d walked in to find Savage still sitting there, ignoring him. Feral had always left him alone. He hadn’t known how to help or if his presence had been wanted. Didn’t want to risk making everything worse.

This time, though, Feral aches from his brother’s long absence. Like this, Savage still seems so far away, and Feral fears that, if he leaves now, Savage will have disappeared again by the time he returns.

“Brother?” Feral asks quietly.

Savage shifts just enough for Feral to catch sight of his eyes, a bright, burning gold against his markings. He looks away again, turning his gaze back to his upturned palms. It’s not quite an invitation, but it’s not a rejection either. Feral walks closer.

This close, the force of Savage’s emotions is almost painful. It’s all fury and loss and desperate guilt. Feral strengthens his mental walls and focuses on keeping his own emotions separate. He falters at Savage’s side, unsure how to help.

But Feral is so tired of being afraid. Doing nothing hasn’t helped either. Savage’s attention is still fixed on his own hands, so Feral reaches over and put his own hand atop Savage’s.

He remembers when Savage had been young and still smaller than him. He’d grown fast and strong, and Feral had been so proud when he’d become the best fighter in the village. Back then, Savage had been only slightly bigger than him. A little taller, broader shoulders, but it’d been a modest difference. Now, Feral’s hand looks small against his brother’s.

Savage jerks at his touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Talk to me. Please,” Feral says. “You keep shutting me out, and I don’t know what to do.”

For several long moments, Savage doesn’t move. Feral waits. He can feel his brother thinking, struggling, _wanting_ , and eventually, haltingly, he starts to speak.

“You should hate me after what I did. You’d be better off if you ran and never looked back,” Savage says. “I keep dreaming about hurting you. I don’t want to. I never wanted- But I can’t _stop_.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. Feral waits, and eventually Savage continues.

“Something was wrong with my head,” he whispers. “Mother Tanzin. The Nightsisters. Their orders were so loud, and I couldn’t _think_.”

Savage is breathing fast, and he clenches his hands into tight fists.

Feral…

Feral isn’t sure what to think. Savage doesn’t talk about what the witches did to him. Not the training or the ritual. He’s never said a word about that night either, when they dragged Feral in front of him and he-

Well. Feral hadn’t tried to speak of it either.

“You were right, though. I was weak,” Feral says

Too weak to survive Ventress on his own. Too weak to protect himself, let alone help Savage. He hadn’t been able to do anything, and Savage had suffered because of it.

Savage looks stricken.

“No. _No_ , you thought-” he says, and Feral doesn’t understand why he sounds so horrified when it’s just the truth. Savage surges to his feet and grabs Feral by the shoulders. It’s the first time he’s willingly touched Feral in months.

“You’re not weak. Not for trusting me and trying to reason with me when I was- when I _couldn’t_ -” His voice breaks, and it’s still unsteady when continues. “I’m so sorry. I swear I won’t hurt you again. I’d rather die, and I’ll kill anyone else who tries.”

He’s practically burning with conviction, and-

Feral believes him.

Something jagged breaks loose in his chest, painful and freeing. He takes that last step forward and embraces Savage properly, holding him desperately tight. After a moment, Savage carefully folds his arms around Feral’s shoulders, returning the embrace.

Savage’s grip used to be a firm, solid thing, but now his arms are gentle and so, so careful. Feral could easily pull free, but he doesn’t want to. He rests his head against his brother’s shoulder and feels small against his bulk. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s still getting used to it. 

“Just don’t leave. Not without telling me and promising to come back.”

He can handle being hurt, and he’s very good at surviving. But he knows, deep in his bones, that he wouldn’t survive being alone.

* * *

Later, Savage stops him before leaving the house.

“You should keep training,” he says. “I haven’t seen you use the Force since we left.”

Feral bites back a comment that he has been using it. He’s been sensing people and emotions just like always. He knows that isn’t what Savage was talking about, though. He hasn’t been practicing what Savage taught him back when they were with Maul.

On Dathomir, they’d been discouraged from any overt Force usage. Moving things. Running or jumping with it. The Nightsisters didn’t like seeing it, and displeasing a Sister was very unwise. They’d still played with it, of course, in closed rooms and isolated pathways. Less as they got older and understood the danger.

There weren’t any Sisters here on Valdoria, but it was still dangerous. They needed to keep a low profile.

“I’ll think about it,” Feral says.

Savage frowns.

Feral sees something moving at the edge of his vision. It’s the only warning he gets before something flies towards him. Feral catches it on instinct.

It’s a small stone. Harmless. Floating in mid-air, where Feral had used the Force to stop it. He drops it immediately, uneasy for reasons he can’t place.

“You need to be able to defend yourself,” Savage says.

Several more stones rise up to hover around them, and Feral bites back an argument. Even now, he knows he’s being unreasonable.

He shouldn’t be this nervous about using the Force. They’re alone here. He can sense how isolated they are, with only animals nearby. There’s been no sign that anyone followed them. No hint of danger or suspicion. Nothing in all the weeks they’ve lived here.

Feral takes a deep breath and deliberately chooses to relax. To accept that they’re safe here.

And… there’s an unpleasant current to Savage’s Force presence. Something cold and determined, and that isn’t good either.

On Dathomir, training together had always been exciting. A way to play and tease each other, away from the pressure of the village proper. It had been different with Maul, with Savage so distant and Feral afraid of doing something wrong. Feral desperately wants to reclaim their old relationship, and that means he can’t act so scared anymore. Savage won’t hurt him, and he promised not to run away again.

Feral needs to make the first move if he wants anything to change. So he does.

The first step is convincing Savage to relax. He shouldn’t look like training is something to be endured. It’s supposed to be fun. 

Hiding a smile, Feral connects to the Force and shoves at Savage. His brother stumbles backwards several steps, surprised, and his grip on the stones waver. Feral plucks one of them out of his control and tosses it towards Savage’s head. Savage catches it with his hand, staring back with surprise and rising indignation.

Feral grins and runs into the forest. He moves slow until he hears Savage in pursuit, and then he dedicates himself wholeheartedly to the game.

* * *

He’s breathing hard and smeared with dirt by the time they finish. Even his head aches in the way that means he’s been pushing himself in the Force. It’s a good ache though, like stretching out his muscles.

Beside him, Savage is slightly muddy. Barely tired at all. Feral doesn’t let it bother him. He’d rarely won spars against Savage before he grew a full foot and mastered Force techniques. At this point, he’s proud of any success, no matter how small.

What matters more is that Savage is smiling. It’s a small thing, barely a quirk of his lips, but it’s there. That cold determination from before is entirely gone, mellowed into a quiet satisfaction. It’s a pleasant emotion, and Feral has felt few enough of those from his brother.

Savage is sitting on a stump, which leaves his head about level with Feral’s shoulders. Without letting himself hesitate, Feral tangles his fingers around Savage’s horns and pulls him close in a gentle embrace. Savage’s head rests just above Feral’s hearts, and Feral gently rubs at the base of Savage’s horns.

It’s different than it used to be. Last time he’d done this, Savage had laughed and teased him about being sentimental. Now, Savage just freezes. He doesn’t pull away or go cold, so Feral keeps stroking his horns.

Savage is warm against him, and Feral can feel him slowly relax. Feral breathes in and nearly chokes on all the emotions in his chest. Grief and relief and hope because he’s able to have this again. He doesn’t plan on speaking; the words slip out without his permission.

“I was so afraid you were dead. Or hollowed out by their Magick. I’m so glad you’re alive and _here_.”

Savage doesn’t say anything, but he presses closer. He raises one arm and carefully returns the embrace.


	5. Tunnels and Trouble

Feral stays within reach of Savage over the next week. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his brother, but he feels better with Savage nearby. More settled, like the world is shifting back into alignment. They keep busy with training and foraging. They even go on a hunt together, though Valdoria’s animals are nowhere near the challenge of Dathomir’s.

A few days in, Feral is surprised to realize he misses his trips to the city. The planet is nothing like Dathomir, but he enjoys it. All these people moving about their lives. The ebb and flow of their emotions. He’s starting to know some names and faces too, though he wouldn’t call anyone friend. Not quite yet.

When he mentions it, he doesn’t expect Savage to nod and set down the wood he’d been working on.

“I’ll come,” Savage says.

It’s a gift Feral hadn’t expected, and he’s smiling as they take those first steps towards the city.

Partway there, Feral stops Savage and motions him towards a small hill near the side of the road. A handful of boulders lay across the far edge, and they’re almost on top of them before the opening into the hill comes into view. Smiling at Savage’s surprise, Feral guides him down.

Savage has to duck to fit, but the tunnel opens up after a few feet. The ground slopes gently downward as the daylight behind them fades. A little longer, and they reach a gentle bio-luminescent glow emanating from the ceiling.

“What is this?” Savage asks, reaching up to touch the thick glowing streaks. A few flakes break off and float gently to the ground.

“Some sort of plant. The locals cultivate it in the tunnels to help guide their way.”

It was also a sign of which paths were safe and reasonably well-traveled. The unlit passages could be small or private or even natural caves that led nowhere at all. Still safe to explore, but they required more care.

“Do you know the way?” Savage asks. He’s staring down the tunnel ahead of them, where the path curves out of sight.

Feral understands his unease. Even now, months after he first tested the tunnels, being underground feels strange. Caves on Dathomir tended to be dark and dangerous, home to any number of predators.

“Here,” Feral says, and he presses Savage’s hand against the wall. Several shapes are carved into the stone, deep and deliberate.

“This means there’s an exit nearby and that we’re below the Eastern road. I think there’s a few other signals I’m missing, but I haven’t found anyone willing to explain it yet. We won’t get lost.”

Wandering alone, there’d been a few times he’d gotten turned around, but the tunnel system was designed to be safe. Even in the smaller tunnels, he’d never been lost for long, and this would be a straight shot to the city.

Savage nods, and he follows Feral without further protest. He stays on alert, watching the space around them and glancing carefully down each dark corner and opening as they passed. Sounds echo strangely and the air is almost unpleasantly cool, but it’s peaceful as well. A nice change from the forests up above.

As they get closer, they start passing other locals. A group of laughing teenagers. An older couple talking quietly amongst themselves. By the time their tunnel opens into a large cavern, there’s a proper crowd around them.

Savage is stiff at his side, and Feral carefully puts a hand against his arm.

“Look up,” he says, and he feels Savage’s surprise ripple outward when he does.

Above them, multiple strains of the bio-luminescent plants give off different colors. They wind around the walls and ceiling, joined by a spread of small, artificial lights in several hues. It’s an alien kind of beauty, like looking up at a night sky transformed into something mesmerizingly strange. They stare up in silence for several moments. Feral has seen the view several times by now, but it’s still one of his favorite spots.

“The market is above us. This is one of the more popular areas for people to visit.”

Savage nods, and they keep moving. A wide staircase carved into the stone leads back into the open air, and they emerge into the city. Soon enough, they find their way to the marketplace.

When Adha sees them, she gives a shout and vaults over the counter to meet them. At his side, Savage stiffens and reaches towards his belt, but Feral elbows him before he can do anything stupid.

“You’re back! Both of you! I gotta say, this is a surprise.”

Without warning, she punches Savage in the arm. Hard, intending to bruise. Savage doesn’t flinch and stares evenly back at her.

“How dare you go running off like that! You better not be planning on doing it again,” Adha says.

Ignoring her, Savage turns to Feral. “You know her?”

“Unfortunately,” Feral says, flushed with embarrassment. “This is Adha. We met while you were gone. She runs one of the food stalls; shouldn’t you be working now?”

He directs the last bit towards Adha, who shrugs, completely shameless.

“It’s midmorning. There’s only prep work now. Which reminds me!” She snaps her fingers and points up at Savage. “You’re going to help me. Payment for looking after this lout while you were gone."

Savage stares back then inclines his head.

“Very well.”

So they spend the rest of the morning at Adha’s stall. There’s not nearly enough work for three people, but Adha insists. She ends up perched on her counter-top, directing them around the small space.

If she was hoping to irritate Savage with grunt work, she would’ve been disappointed. Savage looks vaguely amused by her posturing, and neither of them have any problems with the work. They’re Nightbrothers; they’re used to the mundane practicalities of life.

“So am I ever gonna get a name for you?” Adha eventually asks. “It feels weird to keep calling you ‘Feral’s Brother’”

“No.”

Adha squawks and makes some noise about etiquette, but she doesn’t ask again. It makes Feral smile. Adha can be loud and abrasive, but she tries to be considerate about the important things.

Afterward, Adha rewards them with meat buns and sends them on their way. Feral grins as he eats. Adha’s a skilled cook, and it’s been a good morning. He doesn’t take those for granted anymore.

“You’re happy here,” Savage says quietly, and the words are almost a question.

Feral’s grin softens into a fond smile, and he drifts closer, knocking shoulders with his brother.

“I am.”

Not always. Not easily. But there’s enough sparks of happiness here, especially with Savage at his side.

* * *

At some point, Feral looks up and realizes Savage’s eyes aren’t as bright as they used to be. They’re still yellow, not their old gray-green, but they’re softer. The threads of Darkness in his Force signature have faded too.

Feral isn’t sure what it means, but it feels good. More like how Savage used to be.

Gradually, they find some semblance of normal. Hunts and foraging in the forest. Meals together. Training. Most of the time, it reminds him of the games they played as children, testing their limits and teasing each other. It’s mainly Force practice, not spars or wrestling, and Feral can’t say it bothers him.

He’s doing better. Really, he is. He’s happier, and the nightmares are getting better. He’s also… worried. About how he’ll react if Savage grabs or pins him.

So. Better to stick with Force training.

Eventually, Savage gets restless again. He becomes quieter. Irritable. He wanders more and spends less time at the house. He’s unhappy, and Feral quietly starts preparing for Savage to leave again. He waits, but Savage doesn’t bring it up.

“When are you going?” Feral asks one evening, after Savage has once again ignored the subject entirely. Savage stiffens.

“I’m not.”

“Savage?”

“I promised I wouldn’t leave. Not as long as you want me here.”

Feral hesitates. That’s not what he meant. Not at all. Savage is deathly serious though, and Feral picks his words carefully.

“I don’t mind if you want to wander. You shouldn’t feel like you’re stuck here. I think… I might like to join you, someday.”

After the war ended. When he feels more settled and stops worrying that their home would vanish if he left. He imagines traveling with Savage and visiting strange planets, and he likes the thought.

“I’ll be fine on my own for a bit. Just talk to me. Tell me before you leave and when you’ll be back.”

Communication from off-planet was notoriously difficult through this planet’s magnetic fields. There were ways, though, if it was important and you had the credits.

“You’re sure?” Savage asks, and Feral nods. He smiles and lets his tone turn teasing.

“I know how to take care of myself. I _am_ older than you, after all.”

Savage snorts, and his mouth twitches in a smile. It softens his face. Makes him look more like the brother Feral remembers.

Savage lingers a few more days. It’s a little annoying, actually, since Feral can feel how much Savage wants to leave. He needs something first though. Time, reassurance, company… Feral isn’t sure, but he can be patient. He gives Savage time. Then he helps Savage prepare for his journey and sees him off properly, armed with the promise that his brother will return in a few weeks.

Feral can’t sleep that night. He still doesn’t like being alone—hates the quiet and isolation after a lifetime surrounded by Nightbrothers—but it’s bearable. Better than feeling like a chain holding Savage back, and this time he knows his brother will return.

He makes it work.

* * *

Feral hears little about the war. He deliberately avoids news, actually. He doesn’t want to think about the Separatists or Maul, the brother they left behind.

It’s the one thing he regrets about his decision. Maul is his brother, and Feral still finds himself wishing Maul was the kind of person to run with them. Feral had only met Maul a few times, but that was enough to know it could never happen.

So Feral ignores the war as best he can. Occasionally he’ll stumble across news of this planet or that one being attacked. There’s always new gossip or propaganda pieces about the Republic Generals, which he cares about even less.

He keeps exploring the tunnels, traveling further away from the main paths. He only gets lost a handful of times, and even then he has no trouble finding the surface or another traveler to offer advice. The smaller paths are less popular, so it isn’t unusual when he makes the journey without encountering anyone. Then he reaches the city, and he starts to worry.

Something feels different when he walks through the marketplace. There’s fewer people and less shouting. More quiet, clustered conversation at the street edges.

Scared, Feral thinks.

He wanders through the crowd, but the conversations he overhears aren’t particularly illuminating. Just general unease. People asking about each other. Some debating leaving the city. But nothing about why or what happened.

He slows as he passes near Adha’s stall. She’s busy with a customer, and Feral hears vague noises about promises and deals. Adha feels frustrated and a little smug, so Feral waits for them to finish. Adha offers a wave when she notices him.

“What’s going on?” Feral asks. Adha spares him a quick smile

“Communication went completely out this morning. On and off planet. It’s making people nervous.”

As she talks, she pulls out some dough and starts shaping it into small buns. She, at least, doesn’t look afraid. Then again, Feral has never seen her anything less than composed, even the time a nearby brawl barreled into her stall.

“I… thought that was normal?” Feral ventured. It’d been one of the reasons he’d picked Valdoria, after all. Its magnetic fields mean comm signals are notoriously unreliable, which makes it a perfect place to disappear.

“Not this quickly. And not both types of signal at once.”

Feral takes a deep breath in and lets it slowly out as he watches Adha shape the dough, adding flavors and folding them into shape.

“Could be a coincidence,” he offers without much hope. He’s never had that kind of luck.

She hums noncommittally instead of pointing out the flaws in his logic, which is kind of her.

“Are you staying?”

“This is my stall. So long as the market stands, I’ll be here.”

Some of the buns on her grill have finished cooking, and she skillfully switches them for the raw ones. One on the end—a delicately twisted flower—has grown lopsided as it cooked. Adha weighs it thoughtfully in one hand before chucking it at Feral. 

“Be careful,” she says with a grin.

Feral smiles back and bites into the bun. It’s filled with spiced meat, and he finishes it quickly as he makes his way back out of the marketplace.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he has a bad feeling about it. The feeling follows him as he leaves the city and heads home. He stays aboveground this time; it's quicker this way, and he can see what's around him.

He’s halfway there before he hears ships overhead. Ships aren’t uncommon, of course—the city has its shipyard, albeit a small one—but the sound is different than he's used to. Those are powerful engines; deeper than he's ever heard. Something feels wrong, and there’s a tight knot of unease in his chest. He turns back to face the city, scanning the skies.

Above them, something is descending from above. Several somethings, though it takes Feral a moment to recognize the specks as more ships. Next to them, the main ship is unspeakably huge, and it only grows larger as it comes closer.

A visitor? Some new alliance? No, there would’ve been word if this had been planned. And… comm signals are down. They have no way of calling for help.

The dread that has been building all day crescendos, and Feral can only shake his head in denial. Valdoria is explicitly unimportant to a war; that was the reason Feral chose it. There’s no resources. No strategic advantage to its conquest. The only thing either side could gain is the subjugation of its inhabitants, but what was the point?

Unreasonable or not, there’s a Separatist Destroyer descending towards the city and only one reason why it would appear. Feral starts to run. He’s too far away to do anything when the bombs start falling onto the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I belatedly gave this random planet a name, Valdoria, in earlier chapters, in case anyone was confused by the addition.


	6. Aftermath

Feral watches the forest burn from atop a temple spire. He doesn’t know what Gods it was built for, but it made built to last with thick stone and a steady foundation. It’s one of the tallest remaining buildings and safely nestled against a cliff.

In the distance, fires still burn, and Feral wonders what’s left of his home. Even if it survived the bombings, it’s likely been destroyed by the subsequent fires. He tries not to mourn it, but… he’d hoped their peace would last at least a little longer.

He hasn’t seen any ship overhead recently and no bombings since the GAR showed up. There’d been an aerial battle in those first few days, which looked like little more than a light show from below. Soon enough the fighting shifted to the ground, and the city is still crawling with droids and troopers.

It’s better than the bombings, at least. That doesn’t make it safe.

Movement, in the Northern sector. Blaster fire. The fighting is flaring up again. Feral quickly dismisses them and focuses his attention on the surrounding area. Let the soldiers fight; Feral has already abandoned that war. He keeps searching, and-

There.

Feral jumps off the spire, slowing his fall with the Force. He lands lightly and sprints through the streets. As he draws closer, he reaches out through the Force.

The impression of people blooms to life in his mind. The soldiers are the brightest, full of determination and focus. Fear, too, and the sour tang of it rises and falls with the fighting. One of them abruptly spikes with terror and pain before falling silent. Feral flinches away, though he tries to ignore it.

Further away, there’s another cluster of people. Fear and panic untempered by discipline. Civilians. Feral runs towards them, desperate to reach them before the fighting does.

He makes it.

It’s a small group. A family, maybe, including one Elder and a small child. One of the adults has a blaster, and she fires at him as Feral emerges behind them. Feral feels the blast coming and dodges it easily, raising his hands in supplication.

“I’m here to help. My name’s Feral; my brother and I lived by the forest.”

The woman is still pointing her blaster at him, but the barrel dips slightly.

“The Zabrak. You were friends with Adha,” she says.

The reminder makes a complicated mix of fondness and sorrow rise in his chest. Feral quickly tamps it back down and motions the group forward. “I can guide you somewhere safe. You’ll need to hurry; the fighting is getting closer.”

The sound of blaster fire and shouting is getting closer. They’re not in danger yet, but Feral is intimately familiar with how quickly a battle can turn. Thankfully, the group decides quickly.

The woman lowers her blaster and signs something at the others. They fall into line beside her, though Feral notices the child is kept away from him. Understandable; Feral approves of the protective instinct.

The group is embarrassingly civilian. They move slow and loud, though they were obviously trying to stay quiet. Feral leads them as best he can and hopes it’ll be enough.

They make it a few blocks away—enough that Feral is starting to relax—when he feels it. There’s someone else near the fighting. A single presence, and it isn’t moving.

Feral glances back, and he makes a decision.

“Go straight until you pass the old church. Then turn left and you’ll find a small alley. A lookout should be there to bring you in.”

That’s how it’d worked for the others Feral had guided to the slowly growing resistance in the tunnels. Feral preferred working alone, but he tries to help when he can.

“You’re leaving?”

She sounds nervous, so Feral spares her a smile. “You’ll be alright from here; there’s no fighting ahead. Something is happening on another street. I need to go back.”

The woman hesitates then touches Feral’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says. “Please be careful.”

Feral keeps smiling. “You don’t have to worry about me. Just say safe, alright?”

“You too.”

They turn and keep going. Feral doesn’t watch them leave; he turns back towards the fighting. The presence is small and flickering. Injured, maybe, or unconscious. He’ll have to hurry.

Unfortunately, he has to slow as he gets closer. He can hear the sound of blasterfire. Men shouting. This close, their emotions are almost overwhelming. Feral reinforces his shields against them and presses forward.

He’s careful. Quiet. It’s bad luck when a stray bomb hits a nearby building next. Shrapnel ricochets past him, and a piece of twisted metal clips his shoulder. Feral breathes through the pain, and he stays standing. After the dust settles, he intends to keep moving.

But…

He can see the fighting through the newly collapsed wreckage.

There’s only a couple Troopers along this street. They’d been separated from the rest of their squad, and they’re struggling against the encroaching droids.

Feral knows he could help them. There’s only droids here, and he knows how to handle them. But he needs to keep a low profile. He’s doing what he can to protect the civilians; it’ll have to be enough.

Ashamed, Feral turns his head away. He only makes it a few steps before one of the Trooper’s presence flares in surprise and pain.

Feral can’t help it. He goes back, leaping over the rubble to emerge in the plaza. He takes in the scene in moments. A Trooper on the ground. A large, insect-like droid standing over him, its blade-like arms about to strike.

Feral reaches out with the Force and pulls the Trooper towards him.

The Trooper shouts, and he struggles as he’s thrown through the air. Feral ignores it and leaves him somewhere safe. He has bigger problems to focus on.

Three of the large droids are within sight. As soon as Feral is in view, they take aim and open fire. Feral can feel the blaster bolts coming, and he lets the Force guide his path. This part is easy enough, even for him. They’re only droids, and he trusts the Force to carry him through.

He ducks between them. One well-timed jump leaves the first droid between the other two. Unlike him, it’s too slow to avoid the blasterfire, and it collapses to the ground, smoking. He maneuvers another one into place beside a collapsed building. Then he reaches one hand forward and pulls on a loose metal beam. The beam rockets forward, impaling the second droid.

One left.

Feral turns, but he doesn’t have to do anything. The remaining droid goes down to a well-placed blaster bolt. A second Trooper is standing behind it, blaster raised.

He’s staring at Feral. They both are; the first soldier is back on his feet and only slightly scraped up. Feral ducks down and wishes he had something to hide behind. He’s only ever used the Force in front of his brothers, and he’s spent his entire life keeping a low profile.

Suddenly, Feral realizes he hasn’t thought this through. He’s revealed himself to the Republic Army. Moreover, he used the Force in front of them. What’s he supposed to _say?_

Feral strongly considers turning and running, but the first Trooper starts speaking before he can.

“You’re a Jedi?” he asks.

Feral looks away. “No,” he says. “Sorry.”

He’s about as far from a Jedi as you can get. Barely trained, and by the wrong side too.

Feral motions to an intact road beside them. “The rest of your group is over there. You should rejoin them; the fighting is mostly over now.”

Their Force presences are starting to calm; the sharp focus and fear giving way to relief. They’ll be organizing themselves again soon. Pushing their line further into the city. The two Troopers exchange glances, clearly communicating over their comms. Feral gives their equipment an interested glance before dismissing it; their comms are probably short ranged or a closed circuit to bypass the blackout. Not something Feral can use to contact Savage.

Feral slips away as they talk. He doesn’t regret getting involved, but he’s wasted too much time already. The single presence from earlier hasn’t moved, and it feels so very scared.

It leads him to a partially collapsed house. He frowns. Load-bearing walls are gone, and he can feel the instability of what remains. He’ll need to be careful. He picks his way across rubble and onto some intact flooring, minding his weight.

He sighs when he feels the two Troopers approaching. He could outrun them, but right now Feral has bigger problems to worry about. He waits for them to walk into sight then shouts down.

“Stay there. Someone’s inside, and the building is unstable,” Feral says.

Thankfully, they listen. Feral leaves them to their quiet conversation and focuses on the presence inside the ruined building. He ducks past several collapsed walls and rubble until he finds a small, mostly intact corner and the person hiding under a piece of debris.

It’s a child. Male, if he had to guess. Feral isn’t familiar with the species, but he can’t be more than half-grown. He flinches away from Feral and bares his teeth in a weak threat display.

“It’s alright. I’m here to help,” Feral says, keeping his voice soft and smooth.

Back on Dathomir, he’d often help look after the village Littles. This child isn’t Zabrak, but Feral recognizes the child’s instincts. He’s in pain. Afraid. If Feral moves wrong, he could spook the child. The entire building is unstable, and Feral doesn’t want to test their luck.

He settles down instead. Makes himself seem smaller. He keeps talking: reassurances and soothing phrases. Eventually, the child starts to relax. When Feral reaches towards him, he tenses right back up. Feral stills and keeps talking. Slowly, the boy comes towards him. Takes his hand.

By the time Feral leaves the ruined building, he’s carrying the child. There are small arms wrapped around his neck and a tear-stained face hidden against his chest. The Troopers are, unfortunately, still standing where Feral left them.

What a mess.

“Is it too much to ask that you two walk away and forget this happened?” Feral asks without any real hope.

Of course, the two Troopers stay exactly where they are. They’ve taken their helmets off, so Feral can at least see their expressions. The one on the left has the grace to look embarrassed. The one on the right—facial hair, forehead tattoo—smiles unapologetically.

“Sorry, we have orders to figure out what’s going on.”

Of course they do.

“Nothing interesting,” Feral says as he starts to walk. “You should focus on the real fighting.”

The two fall into step beside him, and Feral can feel them watching him. He wishes he could be angry. If he was willing to be cruel, he could use some rubble to pin the two in place and run. That would leave them vulnerable to attack, though. Feral isn’t willing to risk it.

“I’m Fives,” Goatee-and-tattoo says. “This is Echo. If you’re not a Jedi, then what are you doing here?”

“I lived here,” Feral says.

The words are sharper than he’d intended. Lived. Past tense. No matter what happens next, he and Savage can’t stay. They’ll have to start over again, with a new planet and people. It was hard enough settling here. Savage was finally relaxing around him, and Feral-

Feral breathes in. Breathes out. Readjusts the child’s weight in his arms and reminds himself that they’re at war. Many people have lost more than him. He and Savage will survive this too.

“My brother and I came here a few months ago to escape the war. I’ve picked up a few things about the Force, but I was never formally trained.”

Savage had been Maul’s Apprentice, after all. Feral’s training had been an afterthought, picked up in bits and pieces when his brothers visited. Besides, he’s never even touched a lightsaber.

“You don’t act half-trained. The way you took down those droids was just…” Echo trails off, shaking his head, but Feral can feel his admiration in the Force. He ducks his head to hide the warmth rising in his cheeks.

“I wasn’t planning on getting involved,” he admits. “I’ve stayed away from the fighting. It was just luck that I was nearby.”

He remembers turning his back. Taking that extra step away. If he’d been a moment faster, he would’ve left them behind.

“Hey, however it happened, I’m still grateful. We were in a tough spot, and who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stepped in?”

“But-”

Fives laughs, and his amusement is bright and genuine. “Just relax and take the compliment! Don’t worry, if you’re so embarrassed about it, I promise not to tell anyone about how you came running to our rescue. It can be our secret.”

He nudges Feral’s shoulder, and Feral can’t help but laugh. It’s been days since he had reason to be happy, and Feral struggles to muster up that frustration about them following him.

They have nice presences in the Force too: bright and confident and curious. It’s a pleasant change from the fear and suspicion he’s been surrounded by recently.

“So, do we get to know the name of our rescuer?” Fives asked.

Feral hesitates a moment. Long enough for Echo to elbow his partner and grumble something at him.

“It’s Feral,” he says and braces himself for their reaction.

He knows the Nightbrothers have an unusual naming tradition. Dathomir is a harsh planet and the Nightsisters even worse. Their names reflect that and act as their own quiet prayer for strength.

People here… Well, they’re not rude. Not exactly. But there are enough people that hesitate over his name or find it amusing. A few offered him nicknames, and Feral had tried not to be insulted. He’d mostly succeeded.

“Feral,” Fives repeats, sounding his name out slowly. Then he smiles. “Well, Feral, I can honestly say it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He radiates mild curiosity, but… that’s it. No confusion or judgment. Feral smiles helplessly back.

“You as well,” Feral says. Unexpectedly, he means it.


	7. Meeting the Survivors

“So where are you taking the little guy?” Echo asks as they walk deeper into the city. He and Fives keep scanning their surroundings, and Feral breathes easier with more eyes keeping watch. He doesn’t sense any fighting nearby, but droids don’t give off a Force presence. He’s been surprised by them before.

“Most survivors are in the tunnels. I was planning on leaving him with them.”

If the child was lucky, he had surviving family that had taken shelter underground. If not, the other survivors would look after him. One way or another he’d be safe.

Both Fives and Echo perk up.

“So there are more survivors! With how few people we’ve run across, we were getting worried. The Separatists have been known to take the locals off-planet or hold them hostage,” Fives says.

His Force presence gains an edge, one that speaks of old grief and anger. Another reminder that the war is bigger than this one battlefield. This is just one more tragedy in a string of them, and Feral is already so tired.

“Mind if we come along?” Echo asks. “We’d like to make contact with whoever is in charge.”

Feral hesitates before answering. “This was never a Republic planet. I can’t guarantee your welcome.”

There’d rarely been any talk about the war or the two sides. The planet was on the outer edges of Republic space, and the Senate laws had little impact even before the war. It’s possible that sentiment has soured against both sides of the war since the occupation.

“That’s fine. Help us find them, and we’ll handle the rest.”

Feral nods, and they keep walking. Soon enough they reach the tunnel entrance. As always, there are a few guards lurking in nearby buildings. Feral lead Fives and Echo towards them, and he deliberately stays in the middle of the road. The two guards spiked in alarm when they saw them. Then one of them gasps, and their Force presence flares with delight.

“It’s the Zabrak!” Feral hears before said guard walks out from her cover. It’s a humanoid woman, and she looks so pleased to see him that Feral is momentarily baffled.

“Ah… hello?” Feral says. He definitely hasn’t met her before. He thinks? He’s gotten pretty good at telling humans apart, but sometimes he still makes mistakes.

She approaches, seemingly unconcerned about the two armed Troopers at his side. For a moment Feral worries she’ll try to hug him, but she thankfully stops a few feet away, still smiling.

“It is you! You brought my sister to us a few days ago. Kriff, you must've guided dozens of people to safety. Are you coming inside this time?”

Feral nods, and the guard gestures them towards the carefully hidden entrance to the tunnels. The two Troopers get more suspicious stares, but she lets them pass without comment.

The first guard stays, and the second guides them down. It’s a short climb, but it leads them past multiple branching pathways. None of the glowing moss grows here, and Feral doesn’t see any markings as they pass. Feral approves of the extra security, even as the near-darkness and close quarters make him uneasy.

“What’s your name?” Feral asks as they take a sharp turn down a particularly narrow passage.

“I’m Kamea. My sister is Amai; a bit shorter than me, darker hair. She was with her partner and newborn when the attack came.”

Feral thinks back, and he think he remembers them. Especially the small bundle of fabric that had been the newborn.

“We stumbled across a droid. Your sister is a good shot.”

“That’s them! You’re name’s Feral, right? We did some asking around and found some folk who recognized you. They also mentioned a brother; big fellow, quiet?”

Feral nods, grateful that Savage had kept to himself while on-planet. He doubted anyone here even knew his name.

“He was traveling when the Separatists attacked. He’ll have turned his ship around as soon as he heard about what happened.”

“You think he’ll try to come here?” Kamea says, and her skepticism is obvious.

“Yes.”

Savage had undoubtedly panicked when he heard about the attack, and he’d tear the entire world apart before giving up. He was coming. The only question was when.

“Well, if he’s anything like you, I’m sure he’ll do just fine.”

He can feel her earnestness, and it feels strange. He can’t remember the last time Savage was compared to him instead of the other way around. It had to have been when Savage was still small, long before he’d become the strongest fighter in their village.

“These are Echo and Fives, by the way,” Feral says, half to change topics and half because he knows names are important to the Clones.

Kamea spares them a polite nod but nothing else. With one last turn, they emerge into a large, brightly lit cavern. Feral blinks, momentarily blinded, and is impressed by what he sees as his vision clears. The cavern has numerous indentations and walls dividing up the space, and several walkways stretch overhead. Most importantly, there are _people._ Resting and working and preparing for the ongoing siege. The area practically glows with life in the Force, especially compared to the destruction above them. Feral hopes to slip in unnoticed, but Kamea immediately ruins that plan.

“HEY!” she shouts. “I FOUND OUR CRYPTID!”

She pulls Feral further into the room, pushing him front and center. Several people look up, and a whisper ripples outward. Soon enough, a crowd starts to form, and all these strangers are staring at _him._

Feral shrinks backwards, and he almost stumbles into Echo. The Trooper steadies him, and Feral feels better with Echo’s hand supporting him and the two Soldiers at his back.

“You’re popular, huh?” Fives said, and Feral can feel his amusement.

“I guess?”

It’s not like he forgot about the people he helped, but he put them from his mind after they reached safety. He's glad so many seem to be doing well. It’s also awkward. Very, very awkward.

“FERAL!” a familiar voice shouts, and he looks up to see Adha barreling towards him. The crowd parts for her, and Feral has a moment to realize she isn’t slowing down. He catches her easily. Relief eclipses his unease, and he grins down at her.

“Adha! You’re alright!”

“I’m alright. _I’m_ alright. You’re the one who’s been skulking around outside since this whole mess started!”

Feral shrugs, unsure if he should apologize. Adha doesn’t feel angry, exactly. More amused and excited. Before he can decide, Adha takes a step back to look at the Troopers behind him.

“You brought some interesting friends with you too,” she says, and there’s an edge of wariness in her voice.

Feral can’t blame her. They’ve carved out a refuge for themselves, and it must be difficult seeing soldiers here. He can only hope he’s making the right choice.

“They offered to help any survivors. Who’s in charge around here anyway?”

Adha grins. “You’re looking at her!”

She spreads her arms out wide, and Feral belatedly realizes the crowd around them has been quietly dispersing. Giving them privacy, though he can still feel the prickle of their attention watching him.

“Congratulations,” he says quietly. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

Adha scoffs and waves him off, though there’s a slight flush of embarrassment to her cheeks.

“All they needed was a bit of organization. And someone to give them the occasional kick in the pants.”

Feral allows the deflection. Especially when she looks at the Troopers again, and her humor drains away.

“Can we trust them?” Adha asks quietly.

Feral takes time to think. His word apparently has weight here, and he can’t bear the thought of leading them wrong.

“The two Troopers are honest. They’re really trying to help,” Feral says because he’s felt it to be true. “I don’t know about the army itself or what their plans are, especially after the fighting ends.”

Adha nods along, biting her lip in thought. She sighs. “Well, their plans can’t be worse than the Separatists. They just want us all dead.”

She scrubs at her face, takes a deep breath, and pushes her hair back. Feral can practically see her shouldering the weight of her responsibilities again.

“Thanks, Feral. You better be planning on sticking around this time. It’s not fair you get to run around playing hero while I’m stuck talking to people, ugh.”

“We’ll see,” Feral says.

He hadn’t been planning on staying, but he’s not against it. Especially since he’s the one bringing the Republic army to their doors. He isn’t thoughtless enough to throw soldiers at Adha and run away.

It's not what he wants, but this is war. If Adha thinks he'd be more helpful here, then Feral is willing to try.

* * *

He, Fives, and Echo are guided further inside. Set down and given food. Somebody tries to take the child from Feral’s arm, but he whimpers and holds on tighter. His panic is suffocating, sharpened by his youth, and Feral tries to soothe him.

“I’ll watch over him a little longer,” Feral says.

Echo and Fives get permission to call their Generals and open negotiations, which is easier said than done. Their comm setup works better than anything else nearby, but it still takes several tries, a signal magnifier, and a trip to the surface to get the message out.

Then they wait.

Somehow, Feral ends up with two Troopers on either side of him. They keep talking and laughing and casually distracting the strangers that keep trying to approach Feral.

Feral appreciates their kindness. Really. He just… doesn’t know what to do with it. Besides, he still has the child wrapped around his torso, which is more than enough to keep him busy,

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Feral asks him, which earns him a quick headshake against his neck.

“Can I set you down?” he tries next. It prompts a much more intense rejection as the child tightens his grip. Feral can feel his fear and uncertainty, and he can’t begrudge him whatever comfort Feral can offer.

Fives shifts closer to Feral’s side, and he smiles at the child.

“I’m Fives, and this is my partner, Echo. What’s your name?”

The child peaks out from behind Feral’s shoulder.

“Quiet, huh? That’s fine, I have younger brothers like that. Some haven’t even picked a name yet, can you imagine?”

Fives transitions easily into a story about baby brothers and training mishaps. Feral focuses more on the child than the words as he slowly relaxes his death grip on Feral’s tunic and leans towards Fives. He seems fascinated by the painted designs on Fives’ armor. Fives eventually lures the kid off Feral’s lap entirely and into his own, and he shoots Feral a triumphant grin.

Beside him, Echo snorts. As he shifts, his shoulder brushes against Feral’s side, and he stays there, pressed lightly against Feral's skin. Feral jumps, surprised, but doesn’t pull away. It's been a long time since anyone touched him casually, and he's missed it. Savage is still so hesitant around him, and he's been completely alone for the past week. Echo is warm, and the press of his and Fives' minds feels good. And-

Huh.

There’s a faint thread of attraction in Echo’s Force presence. Fives’ too.

A flush gathers on Feral’s cheeks, and he tries to ignore it. He’s sensed people’s attraction towards him before. Kriff, he’s been propositioned a couple times since arriving on-planet. This is the first time in a while he’s been tempted to respond.

He likes the feel of their Force presences. The determination and loyalty running thickly through them. They're not unattractive either, especially for humans.

They're also soldiers in a war Feral had been desperately trying to outrun. Feral knows he should pull away--for their sakes and his own--but there's been little enough gentleness in the past months. Feral isn’t ready to stop, so he lets himself stay where he is and enjoy it.

* * *

Since the invasion started, Feral has been constantly on alert. There’s a constant risk of attack or explosions, and Feral has stolen naps in bits and pieces. It wasn’t enough, but Feral managed.

For the first time in a week, Feral is safe. He’s surrounded by allies. Fives and Echo are at his side, radiating warmth and safety. So, he shouldn’t be surprised that he dozes off against Echo’s shoulder.

He wakes slowly. There’s something strange at the edge of his Force sense, but in the moment it’s hard to be concerned. He feels _good_ , and he wants to enjoy the moment. Then the thing he’s leaning against moves, and Feral suddenly realizes who he’s leaning against.

He should pull away and apologize and a dozen other things that he doesn’t do. Instead, he stays where he is and takes advantage of them for a little longer. Echo has an arm around him to support his weight, and Feral feels his chest rumble as he laughs at something Fives says.

Feral could’ve easily fallen back asleep, but there’s still that spark from earlier. It’s getting closer: a Force presence that’s radiantly powerful. It’s as strong as Maul feels but with a very different edge: something softer, without those jagged edges.

A Jedi. It has to be.

Feral reluctantly opens his eyes and pulls away. His breath catches when he meets Echo’s eyes, but Feral ignores the pang of attraction. This really isn’t the time.

“I think you’re General just arrived,” Feral says as he straightens. Fives is at his other side, close enough to touch, and the child is sprawled between them.

For a moment, Feral imagines what it would be like to lay back down and curl up between them. It’s a nice thought, and Feral pushes it away before it can take root. Instead, he stands and looks towards the cavern entrance.

The Jedi isn’t alone. There are several other Force presences with him. Quieter, but with that same sensation of discipline and determination as Fives and Echo. Other Clone Troopers.

Feral takes a deep breath. Then another. It doesn’t really help. He’s never met a Jedi before. Most of what he knows comes from some very colorful rants from Maul, and he wasn’t the most objective source.

He jumps when Echo touches his shoulder. He and Echo are also standing, and Echo has the child in his arm. The child is waking and irritated, and he reaches towards Feral. He settles as soon as Feral takes him.

“You can relax, alright?” Fives says. “The Generals are good men. You can trust them to help.”

Feral nods along and pretends to be convinced. “Good men” or not, Feral doesn’t want to know how they’ll react if they realize who Feral is. He doubts anyone would believe that he isn’t some spy or Separatist sympathizer. Feral doesn’t want to deal with that fallout. And… if things go wrong, he doesn’t think he can fight off a Jedi.

He takes another deep breath. Even if he wanted, it’s too late to leave now. He’s always been good at going unnoticed. He can handle this. There’s no other option. Echo and Fives still looks worried, and Feral tries to smile at them.

Then the Republic group walks into sight, and Feral freezes. He immediately recognizes the Jedi walking towards him.

“Kenobi,” Feral whispers, and his head feels like it’s full of static.

Echo looks at him. “Have you met?”

Feral shakes his head and tries desperately to calm his mind. He can’t afford to panic. Can’t afford to act suspicious at all, not in front of High General Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“I’ve heard rumors. That’s all,” he says faintly.

It’s true, in a way. He’s heard plenty about this Jedi from his brothers. Even if most of it was threats and plots to kill and/or torture the man. Maul liked to get creative.

This is the man who cut his brother in half. Who left him half-dead to claw for survival for a decade. Feral should hate him on principle, but hatred has never come easily to him. Instead, he mostly feels ill.

Kenobi is leading a cluster of a dozen Troopers, and he walks straight towards them. Feral manages to meet Kenobi’s gaze and finds only mild curiosity there. Kenobi turns towards Fives and Echo.

“Troopers. Good to see you’re still in one piece,” Kenobi says, smiling serenely at them.

They salute. Fives turns towards him and tries to motion him forward. “We had help. This is Feral, the local I mentioned in our earlier message. He helped us against the droids and guided us here.”

Feral tries not to react as Kenobi looks back towards him. Meeting Kenobi’s gaze is hard. Feral has to break eye contact after a few seconds, and he busies himself with soothing the child.

“You have my gratitude, Feral. Both for looking after my men and helping us establish contact," Kenobi says, and it's almost worse that he's obviously trying to be gentle and welcoming towards him.

“I’m just trying to help,” Feral says when he finds his voice.

That thread of panic isn’t getting better. He wasn’t prepared for this, and Feral decides to leave before he can make a worse mistake. He bows to Kenobi and mutters something about helping the child. Then he runs away.


	8. Adha's Request

It’s a while before Feral can calm down. He spends it pacing back and forth along the outskirts of the cavern. If anyone asked, he was mapping out the different paths and openings. Nobody did.

Stupid. _Stupid!_

He was supposed to be keeping a low profile. All he had to do was stand there and smile while the Jedi talked. Mouth some cheap pleasantries until Kenobi got bored. Instead, he panicked and ran. Kriff, he made everything so much worse.

Maybe he can just stay back and hide until the Republic soldiers leave. Surely they won’t stay long. Hell, he could even duck outside until that happens. Adha would forgive him. Except, he's still holding the kid.

Feral glances down at the child, who is now half asleep against his shoulder. His emotions have finally settled out, and he doesn’t feel as scared anymore. Just tired and sad.

Over the past couple hours, Feral has gotten used to the child’s weight in his arms and his warmth through the Force. He’s already spent more time with the child than expected. It’s past time to let him go. After that, there’s nothing to keep him here while Kenobi hangs around.

Feral ignores the small pang of disappointment about never seeing Fives or Echo again. They’re Republic Troopers. They were always going to leave.

Feral heads to the nursery. He’d noticed the cluster of children on one of his circuits, and it isn’t far. A small barricade keeps the youngest children contained, and several adults watch over the group. Everyone looks over as Feral approaches.

Feral picks his way over to the adult at its center and offers a shallow bow.

“I found this one in a collapsed house earlier today. There weren’t any bodies, but I don’t know what happened to his guardians,” Feral says.

The human beckons for Feral to hand the child over. Stroking his head one last time, Feral does. The child tolerates the transfer with only a little soothing, and soon enough he relaxes back into sleep.

Afterward, Feral hesitates just long enough to feel a small hand grabbing at his clothes. The other children have converged, curious and looking for entertainment.

Feral intends to walk away. Somehow, he finds himself being pulled into their games instead. He keeps meaning to leave, but somehow he can’t quite manage it. He’s missed watching over the children of his tribe. Children are easy to please. They touch his markings, and they ask to play games. Feral can’t help but oblige.

It’s hard to walk away when he knows the only things waiting for him outside are fear and isolation.

So he stays, and eventually he feels Fives and Echo coming towards him. Even then, he could go. Slip out the back and skirt the cavern edges until he’s out in the streets. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.

The children are a good excuse to keep his eyes down as Fives and Echo approach. They pause at the edge of the nursery, and Feral focuses on the two younglings in his lap with a third tugging on his sleeve. One of them grabs at his horn, and Echo stops her before she can hurt her hand.

“You’re good with children,” Echo says.

Feral shrugs. “I helped look after them in my village. Everyone did.”

He’d volunteered more often than most, but everyone kept an eye on the younglings. Dathomir was a harsh planet, made worse by the Sisters. They couldn’t protect each other, but the Sisters didn’t care about the youngest Nightbrothers. They, at least, could be protected, and any Brother would die to save a younger clanmate.

“Are you alright?” Echo asks. “You left rather quickly.”

A polite way to say Feral barely lasted a minute before awkwardly running away. Feral grimaces.

“I’m fine. I was just… overwhelmed.”

He’d barely been prepared for a Jedi to appear, and then it’d been _Kenobi._ Feral knows he’d made a fool of himself. He sighs.

“I was rude. I should probably apologize,” he says reluctantly. He doesn’t mind apologizing—he’s never suffered from that sort of pride—but he doesn’t fancy the idea of seeking out Kenobi. He could still leave instead. Ruder, maybe, but at least Feral wouldn’t be around for the fallout.

Fives snorts and settles against Feral’s side.

“Don’t worry about it. The General doesn’t mind. Kriff, I bet he’d feel more awkward about receiving that apology,” Fives says.

Feral is honestly surprised. Most powerful people he’s known enjoy any shows of deference. Then again, it’s not as if he actually knows Kenobi. Maul’s rants weren’t particularly enlightening about his personality.

“Tell me about him?” Feral asks. He can pretend he’s gathering information, but mostly he’s curious.

“The Jedi? Or General Kenobi in particular?”

“Either.”

Fives grins and shifts into a more comfortable sprawl. Nearby, Echo takes over entertaining the cluster of children. One child determinedly inches her way up Echo’s armor while he pretends not to notice.

“So, first thing, General Kenobi isn’t really our General. We’re stationed together so often he might as well be, but we’re actually assigned under General Skywalker. He’s still topside with the rest of the army, which is good because the amount of explosions and disaster goes up exponentially when those two are together.”

He launches into a story about their last combined mission, which features an impressive amount of explosions. Plus a disastrous attempt at negotiations and some pointed comments about lost robes. Echo jumps in often, adding details and context. He’s probably the better storytelling, though Fives wins out on enthusiasm.

It’s nice. A good story and good company, and Feral finds himself laughing easily. The fondness they have for their Jedi radiate off them, and Feral can’t help but relax into the sensation.

He feels a bit guilty about it. He knows he’s supposed to hate Kenobi for how he hurt Maul. Part of him wants to, but the best he can muster is some anger and an old, tired sadness.

* * *

They’re still in the nursery when a young man finds Feral with a message: Adha wants to see him. Alone.

Feral doesn’t consider refusing. Fives and Echo make him promise to rejoin them later, and Feral finds himself agreeing. He knows it’s stupid, but he _wants_ it. He’s done few enough things for himself in the past weeks. Surely there’s little enough risk to staying a few hours longer.

Adha had taken over a small nook in the center of the camp. There’s a cluster of activity around the area, which Feral slips quietly past. He hesitates at the entrance to Adha’s space. She’s bent over a desk with several sheets of flimsi

“Adha?” Feral asks.

Adha motions for him to sit in front of her, and Feral obeys. She stares at him for several long moments. Feral squares his shoulder and meets her gaze. Already, he doesn’t like the tight swirl of emotions around her. She’s upset, and Feral already has a bad feeling about where this conversation will go.

“First of all, I need you to know that you’re welcome here. You can rest and recover and do kriffing _nothing_ for as long as you want, and everyone here will be happy to have you.”

She hesitates, and Feral finishes the thought for her. “But there’s something else you want from me,” he says gently.

This isn’t a social call, after all. They wouldn’t be here with Adha so unhappy if that was all she wanted. Adha winces.

“You can say no, and there won’t be any consequences.”

Feral believes her. He also knows there isn’t the faintest chance he’ll turn her down. Not if this is half as important as it seems.

“What is it?”

Adha folds her hands in front of her, looking every inch the leader she’s become. “The GAR is asking for our help. They have the firepower, but they don’t know the planet. The Separatists overran the Capital, and the Republic is struggling to get a foothold. They don’t know the tunnels or the locals, and they’re making little headway above ground.”

“They want a guide,” Feral says. “I’m your best option.”

Possibly her only option. Plenty others knew the tunnel systems, but few were fighters. Fewer had any experience with war. And nobody else had Feral’s Force sense for finding people.

“Like I said, you don’t-”

“I’ll do it,” Feral says.

Really, there’s no other option. If he refuses, then someone far less prepared will be sent in his place. Feral won’t allow it. Not while his own objections are so minor in comparison.

Adha looks at him. Sighs.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

She pulls out several sheets of flimsi covered with maps and tells Feral what she knows. It’s quite a bit. People and contacts and hideouts. Facts and conjecture. Feral doesn’t ask how she knows any of it, though he wishes he had time to hear her stories.

“I’d come with you if I could,” she says, tracing a map wistfully. “They need me here more. None of the civvies know how to hide or organize, and I can’t leave them.”

“You’re a good leader,” Feral says

Adha smiles slightly, though it looks strangely sad. “Though not a good friend. You deserve to rest, but I’m already asking more from you.”

She reaches for a datapad in a clear dismissal. Feral hesitates. Adha feels dim and unhappy, and Feral doesn’t want to leave her like this.

“It’s late; I doubt the Republic will leave before morning. If you have the time, I’d like to spent some time together. It’s been too long since we had a chance to talk.”

He feels a flash of surprise followed by pleasure. Her next smile is far more honest.

“I’d like that. I have some work to finish first, but we could share the evening meal? Just the two of us.”

Feral leaves with a time and a promise. For one more night, he sets aside thoughts of the Jedi and the army. Dathomir had taught him, over and over again, to take whatever time he has and use it to the fullest.

He gets his good night. Adha finds him, and they have a relaxing meal, perched in some half-hidden crevice where nobody disturbs them for hours. They laugh and share stories, and it’s the kindest goodbye Feral has ever had.

* * *

The next morning, Feral wakes early. The GAR is already a buzz of activity as they prepare to leave, and Feral can feel Fives and Echo in the middle of the group. Feral drops down and slowly approaches.

One of the other Troopers nudges Fives, and he turns around. He breaks into a wide grin and jogs over.

“Feral! I was starting to think you weren’t gonna keep your promise.”

He clasps Feral on the shoulder, and Feral can’t help but smile. “The situation changed. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

After all, this wasn’t a goodbye anymore. He’ll be coming with them. Despite his concerns, he’s happy he can stay beside the two men a bit longer.

“Is Echo free?” Feral asks, glancing towards Echo’s Force presence. He’s with another cluster of Troopers, lost in conversation.

“Don’t worry, he’ll come. This isn’t as much time as we wanted, but maybe…” Fives says, staring intently at him. His hand is still on Feral’s shoulder, and his grip shifts into something softer.

Feral’s breath catches, and he senses that same thread of attraction as yesterday. Before he can respond, his attention is abruptly drawn to the side, where Kenobi is moving towards them. Feral tenses for a different reason and turns to face him, ignoring Fives’ quiet curse.

Adha is at Kenobi’s side. She spares Fives a curious look as she and Kenobi stop in front of them. Adha motions Feral forward.

“This is Feral; he’s a personal friend of mine and knows the paths better than most natives. I trust him to guide you.”

Kenobi smiles at Feral and gives a short bow, clearly meant to put Feral at ease. “Ah, yes, we spoke briefly yesterday. It’s good to see you again, Feral.”

Feral smiles back, and it’s only a little strained. “You as well, General. I look forward to working with you.”

It’s a blatant lie. He’d much rather avoid the Jedi entirely, but Adha asked him and the Troopers could use his help. If Kenobi senses the deception, he has the grace not to comment on it.

There’s another reason the Republic might prefer a different guide, though. Something they deserve to know.

“I have to warn you: I’m also looking for my brother. Once we find each other, I plan on leaving with him. I can only help until then.”

General Kenobi frowns. “Your brother; you were separated in the attack?”

His voice has that edge of concern, almost pity, that means he thinks Feral’s brother is likely dead. Annoyed, Feral shakes his head.

“He was off-world at the time. He’ll have come running as soon as he heard about what happened.”

General Kenobi inclines his head. “Then I wish you two luck, and I’ll gladly accept your assistance until that time comes.”

There’s a Trooper standing slightly behind General Kenobi. He steps forward, brandishing a datapad. They share a few quiet words before General Kenobi looks back.

“I’m afraid we’re rather short on time. Is there anything pressing you need to finish before we leave?”

Feral shakes his head, and General Kenobi turns towards the rest of his troops. Adha stays behind.

Feral hesitates before turning back towards Adha one last time. She’s watching him.

“Stay safe, alright?” Feral says.

Adha laughs and punches him in the shoulder. “Pretty sure that’s my line, Feral. Be careful while you’re out there. Don’t do something stupid and get yourself hurt.”

“Don’t worry. I’m good at surviving.”

Adha pulls him into a rough embrace. Feral carefully returns it, trying to memorize the vibrant shape of her in the Force. Too soon, Adha pulls back.

Fives is still behind him, and Echo is at his side; he must’ve walked up while Feral was distracted. Feral turns away from Adha, and he joins the Troopers.

It feels weird, being the one to leave. He’s much more used to being left behind. It isn’t any easier on this side.

Yet, as Fives and Echo fall into step beside him, that ache is easier to bear. He’s not alone. He can keep Fives and Echo for a little longer, and his brother is still out there. He’s determined this won’t be the last time he sees Adha too. Even if it takes years, he’ll visit once it’s safe.

“You’re coming with us? That’s great!” Echo says.

Feral nods. “You needed a local guide. I volunteered.”

If it hadn’t been for Savage or Kenobi, he would’ve offered without hesitation. Both to watch over Fives and Echo and to strike back at the Separatists in a way that _hurts._

Echo seems pleased, but Fives keeps glancing back, distracted.

“So. Adha. The two of you…?” Fives asks. He feels… disappointed?

Feral stares back, confused, and he laughs when he realizes what Fives is really asking.

“Adha is a friend. Besides, she’s really not my type.”

There’s that spike of interest again from them both. Feral can’t stop a smile, especially when Fives throws an arm around his shoulders, but he still isn’t sure what to do about it. At best, he has a couple weeks until Savage arrives. Not enough time to start anything, even if he wasn’t hiding secrets.

He can enjoy their company, at least. For as much time as they’re given.


End file.
